Tired of Being Awake
by Chickeon
Summary: Glarthir can't sleep. When he can't sleep, the eyes come out.


I jolt awake.

Its the dead of night. Overcast, warm, and humid. I'm covered in my own sweat. The nightmare plagues me still. Every night, when I can convince myself to sleep, I have it. The same dream. The _same _dream. The eye dream, where everyone is watching me. Like an insect. Something to be studied, then killed because it knows too much. I know too much about _them _. I know they're the reason why I'm having these dreams. I know they are.

I have to play unaware.

They'll kill me otherwise.

I know they'll kill me.

They'll kill me if they know I know about them watching me.

I'll be killed.

Murdered like the pest they see me as.

I let my head fall into my hands, sighing and trying to calm myself back down. I need sleep. I need _sleep _. If I can't sleep, there will be more eyes. More eyes to follow me. More probing questions. They could take advantage of me. Use my insomnia against me. I can't let them have that power, but falling asleep is as hard as eschewing it altogether. I can't let them have that power. If I do, they'll kill me.

It's funny how those three tell lies about me to get the city to watch me. I know the guards watch me. If they're apart of the conspiracy or trying to "help" based off of a lie, I don't know yet. But I hear what they say about me. I know they think I'm paranoid, crazy, sick. Of course, they never say that I am. Hiding behind metaphors like I'm too stupid to see through them. I am paranoid, but anyone would be if they had people around every corner watching every little step they take. Can anyone blame me? I'm acting how anyone else would. No one will give me the benefit of the doubt. That's how pervasive their lies are, that now, no one could ever sympathise with me.

Just as they would want it to be.

No one believes me.

Makes me easy to kill.

They could claim its suicide.

"You hear about Glarthir? He killed himself!"

I'd never.

I've considered it.

I had a plan for it once.

But that's letting them win.

I force myself to take in the world around me. Inky shadows spill across the floor like hands, searching for my throat to strangle. In the corner of my eye, I could see figures darting in and out of view, dancing just out of sight and teasing me with their presence. As much as I want to return to the calm eigengrau of sightlessness, I have to keep watch. Falling asleep now, when I have their attention, is death. I must remain awake. Those shadow people, I know they're from the people trying to kill me. I'm positive they are. But yet, despite their masters' overwhelming hatred for me, they never attack me. Why haven't they killed me in my sleep, the reason escapes me, but perhaps they want to get me a different way. The shadows are only to spy on me when they're asleep. But why?

I don't understand them, the three that watch me. I don't understand their motives, but I can guess as to who. I still need to do more research before I'm sure, but I pin the Maruhkati Selectives as the most likely group behind this. Men and mer have been opposed since the two first met; it wouldn't surprise me if, even today, there were still some militantly hellbent on removing any of us, no matter the costs. But that raises another question: why haven't any others come forward? I know there's more than only me in Skingrad, but none have come forward and I'm sure none of them believe me enough to stand with me. Perhaps there's something about me that frightens the Selectives, therefore, I must be under constant surveillance in order to protect their agenda. All the conspirers are human, which lends some credence, but I cannot confirm it.

I look out the window. A pair of eyes stares out at me, right from the residence of Davide Surilie. How long has he been watching me talk to myself? I break away, pretending I was only looking for the source of a sound outside as to not tip my hand. If they knew _I _knew they were stalking me, I'd be dead before the sun came up.

It's better to pretend.

Better to pretend.

Better to pretend.

Better to not let them know.

If they know, _I die _.

I die!

I must stop _them _.

Kill _them _before they kill _me _.

_Kill them _.

_Kill them _**_all_ **.

_Kill _**_every last one_ **_of them _.

Blood everywhere, splattered on the floor like red shards of broken glass, the mangled corpse beneath me that alternates between the three each time I blink. I killed them, axe in hand, slamming the blade down further, further into their body, relishing, enjoying, _loving _every second of it. My breathing quickens as I pull myself from my vision. These thoughts are getting more frequent by the day. When I see them, I see them dead. When I see myself, I see them killing me as viciously as I imagined their deaths. I try reassuring myself. It's all a thought. It's only your mind being violent. I don't want to kill them. I can't kill them. What if they _are _innocent, despite all the damning evidence? I can't take the chance, no matter how many times these glimpses of the future insist otherwise. I can't. I… I _can't _.

I wipe off the sweat accrued on my brow. I shake like it's the dead of winter, yet summer's only started. I have to do something. I don't know what, but I need to do something. I had prayed for sleep, yet none of the gods have heard me. Another sleepless night wandering the house until daylight, until I pass out from exhaustion. I grab my ax, the same one I saw in my vision, the same one I've kept for years and promised to myself that I'd use when they'd come for me, and I shuffle out of bed. The metal handle is cold as both of my hands grip onto it, the weight comforting as I swing it over my shoulder. I don't look like I can use it, but I can and I will. Good thing looks can be deceiving.

The thought of deceptive looks draws my mind to my memories of Bernadette Peneles. She used to be on my side. Used to be, until _they _got her. She was so nice to me, and I repaid her in kind. To think I showed kindness to someone who would turn against me! To think I spent time with her, talking and sharing my most guarded secrets to someone I _thought _would understand me, or at least offer me comfort, but to have her stab me when I needed her most only made me realise how deep the conspiracy goes. I can't trust anyone in this gods-forsaken town. Trusting her was a mistake, and she has undoubtedly told every single one of my flaws to them, ways to get me, how to catch me like the mouse they see me as. The one person I could see as a friend in this nest of treachery lied to me. She took advantage of me, used this isolation imposed by them to worm her way into my good graces, only to use my weakness against me. If I wasn't sure of everyone being against me, after that, I was.

I pass by the paintings I had finished long ago that I neglected to do anything with. Before I was targeted, painting was how I made money, how I spent my free time. I was making a name for myself with my talent, but like all good things in my life, it had to end at their hands. I can't make out any details in them in the darkness, their night-greyed colors morphing and bleeding into each other as my eyes glance over them. Like a sea of muted colors vying for supremacy over each other, pushing, fighting for control. I kick a book out of the way as I made my way to my stairs, looking back and squinting in an effort to find a title. Nothing. A blank cover with only the darker indications of what could be letters smudged across the front. I continue, realising my eyes are playing tricks on me.

Each step screams as I descend, every noise a threat. My eyes flick around the room, waiting for any of the shadows to spring at me like snakes. As I stepped off of the stairs and onto the second floor, my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Everything was rendered like the paintings, shades of grey with the slightest hint of blue. Books are everywhere: some in piles, some open and alone, with few left on the bookshelf. Reading. Why didn't I think of that to help me sleep? I put my axe down beside a stack of books. Just need to move this bench over so that they can't see me through the window and… perfect. This will work perfectly. I grab a book from the top of one of the stacks, as well as my ax, and return to the makeshift bed I made. It's not ideal, but it works.

Dropping my ax beside the bench, I look over the book. Across the dark spine, I find the words "The Brothers of Darkness." I smile at those words. One of my last options of resolving it all without getting blood on my hands. I'm still collecting parts for the ritual. Even with all my research on them, I still have several questions on their ways. Should I make three effigies, or will one suffice? Do any of the materials need to be… fresh? When I get the chance, I'll dig up another old grave. It's better to be safe than sorry when dealing with these kinds of people. Despite their danger, if I can't deal with this peacefully, I'll _make _a deal. And if I can't make a deal with the Dark Brotherhood quick, I'd have to kill them _myself. _And if it really has to come to that, I _will _do it.

I'll do it.

They think… they think I won't!

I'm not a coward!

I'll kill them myself!

I'll murder _each _and _every _one of them.

If I find more, I'll kill _them _too.

I'm laughing. I'm _laughing _!

Do I need an effigy if I can _kill _them myself?

Blood everywhere.

Blood stained clothes.

Blood painted across rooms.

Screaming. _Wonderful _screaming.

Screams that mark my **_freedom_ **.

No! Stop! What the hell are you thinking! Is that really… no! _No! _They're dead. They're dead and I killed them. Their corpses pulled over one another, black blood spidering out from them onto my floor. _I _did this. I'm scared but… liberated. Liberated! They're finally gone. Finally gone! Finally… finally… gone?

The bodies. The bodies are gone. There's no blood. Not even a spot. They never existed. They never existed. I… I need to get up. I get my axe. It was my eyes playing tricks on me. That's all that was. It was only shadows that looked like blood, objects that looked like their dead bodies. It was nothing. It was nothing. It's from the insomnia. Yes, that's the reason for it. I need sleep. I need _sleep _. I need sleep but sleep never comes. I only sleep when it forces itself on me. I can't sleep; Davide is watching me, and most likely, the others are too. If I sleep, I'm dead.

I'm pacing again. They're watching me. I know this oppressive stage-fright only comes when they are. Why can't they leave me alone? What did I do to deserve this? What about me is so important that three people, along with countless others, have to watch me? I'll never understand it. Never. If I do anything rash, it's their fault. You can't do this to someone without expecting a reaction. People break and snap eventually.

A figure leaps out at me. I swing, cutting into pure shadow. Nothing. Nothing was there. My eyes sweep the room, waiting for the next attack. But… but there's only eyes. Oh gods, the eyes. There's many eyes. They're everywhere. They open when I'm not looking, then crawl back into the shadows when I do. I want them gone. I want the eyes gone. I want all of them dead. I want to get rid of these _damn eyes. _Watching. Scrutinising. Laughing. I hear them laugh. The eyes laugh at me. They laugh like its all some silly game! Yes, the torture of _an innocent man _is fun! **_Fun!_ **Am I an ant under a glass to them? Something to be tortured for their own amusement?

I swing my axe down at an eye close to me. Damn things are fast. I go at another. The same thing. When I turn away from them, I can feel their gaze boring into my very soul, their jeers showing theirsadistic enjoyment of my suffering. Laughing! They're _all _laughing. No matter how many times I try to kill them, they come back larger, louder, looming over me and finding my attempts to rid myself of them hilarious. It's _funny, _isn't it? I'm sure the Divines themselves are watching me, laughing. Everyone laughs! Everyone laughs at Glarthir! Come watch his mind be broken! Bring family, bring friends, bring the _fucking emperor _to watch! It's all a game!

It's all a game!

Watch!

He's going to _die _!

See how he _struggles _!

Watch him! Never take your _eyes _off him!

Maybe we'll watch him _kill _someone!

You have _nothing _to live for.

You should've followed through with it..

No one watches a _dead _man.

No one _wants to watch _a dead man.

No one will watch me if they're all _dead _.

I'll _kill them all _.

_He's decided _! Go and _kill them!_

I'll kill you _too _! **_I'll kill you all_ **!

Silence. Deafening, horrible silence. The eyes retreat, and I am left alone with the echoes of my shouting still ringing in my ears. My face is wet with tears, although I'm not sure when that started. Those voices. Those _voices. _When the eyes come, the voices come too. Its so hard to separate them from my actual thoughts, since their pitch matches mine, their accent a perfect replica of my own. They tell me to do it. To kill. To hurt others, to hurt myself, to hurt _something _. I've been good at resisting, but with every passing hour, seeing _them _watching me, noting my behaviours, tracking me and waiting for the right moment to strike, its… its hard not to believe them. I may lose this fight against myself, but I know for certain I _won't _lose against the Selectives and their spies.

A noise outside jumps me from my thoughts. I rush downstairs to the bottom floor, ready for the confrontation. Tonight's the night they try to take me out! I won't submit quietly! I won't go down without a fight! I'm gripping this axe hard enough to leave an indent of it on my hands. I wait, with bated breath, for an attacker to come and attempt to kill me. But the sound of clanking armor passes down the street without my door busting in. The world goes quiet again.

I go up to my windows and peek out from behind the blinds. That's not a guard. I don't know anyone who would be up this late at night in… full iron armor. I need to investigate. What if its another spy? What if… what if its a traveler? A traveler! A traveler is just what I need! A traveler… what luck that would be! Not tainted by the conspiracy! Pure of their malicious intentions…. I couldn't suppress a laugh thinking about it. The gods have heard me, and this undeniable proof of that!

I stifle my nigh uncontainable laughter and slip outside, leaving my ax by the door. I can't let them think _I'm _going to kill them, can I? I dart around a house and wait for them to turn down the street corner. As I see them draw closer, I study their features. An Orc, a female Orc from the looks of it. Not many people would be happy to see one, but I can't stop smiling. This was my saviour. This was going to save me from them. If she falls to the conspiracy, then there would be no hope of resolving it peacefully, but I doubt she will. She doesn't know who I am, which works perfectly in my favour. This is wonderful. This is so… wonderful.

She's getting closer! I plan what I'm going to ask, attempting to dilute this wide smile into a friendly one. Now I feel like _they _do, stalking an unaware prey. Except this Orc isn't my prey, she's my only hope left. I can't believe that the right person would show up in the middle of the night. I can finally get rid of the eyes. I can finally get rid of _all_those eyes that watch me sleep. I can finally find out who's deserving of death, without any doubts. Tears of relief pricked at my eyes, but I kept them in. I need to be calm. I need to be calm.

She passes where I'm hiding. Now's my chance! My heart's racing. It's threatening to burst from my chest. This is it. This is where it all ends. No more _eyes _, only **_freedom_ **. I peek my head out and look at her. She's ignorant to my presence. _Good _. I open my mouth, speaking the words that will unshackle me from the chains this conspiracy has put me in.

_Psst. Over here!_


End file.
